Phil - 24 - he/they - writer, anthropologist, spoonie - multishipper - I post whatever, ask to tag - AO3 - header by @fishfingersandscarves - pfp by @farahsamboolents
Finally, my piece for Steddievember is here (only a few days late, but hey, better than never)! @steddievember
Steddie, Explicit, One-Shot
Summary:
In the time that they'd been together, Eddie had had a few of these episodes. Days where he'd get incredibly restless, to the point that it was physically uncomfortable, and very little, if anything, helped.
He reached out to cradle the other man's face, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Eddie melted into it, tugging at Steve until he was in his lap. He sighed into his mouth as Eddie's hands snuck up his shirt, skating up his sides.
Steve pulled back from the kiss and studied his boyfriend for a moment.
“Eds?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Can we try something different today?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“What if I took control today?”
Or, baby's first time domming: healing kink edition.
CW's: orgasm delay/denial, Soft Dom Steve Harrington, Good Boy Eddie Munson, light bondage, face-fucking, topping from the bottom, bottom Steve Harrington, Top Eddie Munson
(Read on AO3)
Eddie had been antsy all day. Sure, Eddie was an energetic guy, but today really took the cake. Steve watched as his boyfriend flitted from one task to the next, seemingly unable to complete a single thing. First it had been breakfast, which while very sweet in concept; Eddie couldn’t cook to save his life. Steve had to rescue him before he burned himself, their apartment down, or both.
Then it was reorganizing the bookshelves in the living room, which he already knew was going to cause a fuss when Robin got back from her study abroad at the end of the month. That reorganization had lasted all of 30 mins before the phone rang and Eddie got distracted arguing about some DND thing with Dustin.
Steve had taken the distraction as a chance to place the books littering the floor back onto the shelves. Luckily the phone call had kept him fairly busy, pacing the hallway as he talked, the cord trailing behind him like a tail. He left Eddie to his conversation, heading to his desk to attempt to get a head start on the week's readings.
Maybe 20 mins later, Eddie was pulling him out of his chair, dragging him over to the couch to cuddle while he read. Steve hummed as Eddie scratched at his scalp, turning the page of his textbook. He made it through a quarter of the chapter before Eddie's hands started to wander, which was honestly a show of great restraint.
"Eds?"
"Hm?"
A finger idly circled his nipple through the material of his t-shirt.
"Lemme finish this chapter?" He asked, tilting his head to look at his boyfriend.
Eddie huffed.
"Fine. Finish your chapter and leave me to die of boredom," he mumbled dramatically, but dutifully moved his hand back to Steve's hair.
He started to get antsy again after just a couple pages.
"Babe, seriously. I've got like 20 more pages to read, then I'm all yours, okay?" Steve asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.
Eddie nodded, sighing.
"Sorry, everything's just--" he broke off into another sigh, which made Steve frown and set down his book.
"Hey," he prompted softly, turning around to fully face him. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was that bad."
In the time that they'd been together, Eddie had had a few of these episodes. Days where he'd get incredibly restless, to the point that it was physically uncomfortable, and very little, if anything, helped.
He reached out to cradle the other man's face, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Eddie melted into it, tugging at Steve until he was in his lap. He sighed into his mouth as Eddie's hands snuck up his shirt, skating up his sides.
Steve pulled back from the kiss and studied his boyfriend for a moment.
“Eds?”
Eddie’s eyes snapped to his immediately.
“Yes, baby?”
“Can we try something different today?”
Eddie hummed, his hands falling from their place on his waist to knead at his ass. Steve pressed into it with a sigh.
“What did you have in mind?”
“What if I took control today?”
At this Eddie paused, considering.
“You wanna tell me what to do, baby?” He tilted his head. “Have you been thinking about this for a while?”
Steve shrugged.
“I mean, I’ve thought about it before, but I like when you tell me what to do. I like that you can get me out of my head and make me feel good. It just seems like maybe you could use some of that today, hm?”
He watched as Eddie’s eyes widened, the hands on his ass squeezing firmly.
“Okay, Stevie. I trust you.”
Steve couldn’t help but lean in to kiss him again before climbing off his lap. Eddie looked up at him expectantly.
“Why don’t you go ahead and wait for me in the bedroom. Clothes off, back against the headboard.”
Eddie scrambled off the couch and towards their room.
“And I want those clothes folded!” Steve called after him.
Steve took a moment to put away his book before following after him. He thought he’d have a harder time getting into the right headspace, but at the end of the day, he was just taking care of Eddie and he considered himself an expert at that.
Rated: T | CW: puking | tags: platonic soulmates stobin, established steddie, Steve Harrington has migraines, hurt/comfort
Prompts: you’re shaking and hey, don’t do that
For @theheadlessphilosopher (thank you for your patience!!!)
🩹🩹🩹
Steve knows, before it hits, how bad this one is going to be. The aura in his vision is blurry and vibrant, a refraction of light into a brilliant haze of colors that swirl when he shifts his gaze.
It would be beautiful if it didn’t scare the shit out of him.
Tingles spread from the tips of his fingers to his elbows and Steve knows he has about an hour before the whole thing hits him full-force.
He pops his migraine pills and hopes against hope that it’s not going to be as bad as he fears.
It’s exactly as bad as he fears.
The splitting pain in his skull spreads down his neck and across his face, making everything above his shoulders throb, like the pressure of the very blood through his veins is going to burst through his skin. Just blinking makes the room spin. Just the smell of his earlier breakfast has his nausea threatening to overwhelm him only minutes after the pain hits.
At least he made it to the toilet. At least he had the sense not to turn the lights on and as he presses his forehead against the cool plastic of the seat, he’s grateful Eddie cleaned their bathroom yesterday.
He’ll probably need to clean it again, thanks to the contents of Steve’s stomach now painting the inside of the bowl.
He was supposed to go grocery shopping today. He was supposed to vacuum and get the plates of his car switched from Indiana to Illinois and he was supposed to find something for Wayne for his birthday next month.
Instead he builds up his courage to flush his vomit, the sound of their old pipes whining as he does, rattling his already pounding head. The stench of it would’ve made him sick again, though, the start of an endless cycle.
The minutes tick by. Steve’s ass begins to ache. So do his knees, and what people don’t tell you about migraines is how goddamn boring they are. How, because of the pain, he just has to lie here. How he can’t do anything, because the light from the window is too bright for him to keep his eyes open and moving makes his stomach turn and just the noise of their heater kicking on is enough for him to scrunch his face in pain.
He must drift, because the glow from the window is dim when the front door rattles, and Robin’s voice isn’t far behind. “Dingus!” She calls, her voice piercing, the nerves in his spine zinging as she calls his name, “I’m home!”
His pain has subsided enough that he can crack an eye open, now, and he attempts to right himself.
“Dingus?” She calls again.
“Here,” his voice is weak. He sounds exhausted and Steve hears Robin drop her bag in the hall before shuffling into his room.
“Oh,” she murmurs, in that low voice she uses only when Steve’s head is threatening to evacuate its spot on his shoulders. “You want me to help you to bed?”
He nods, and, gingerly, Robin helps him up.
“Steve, you’re shaking.” Concern is clear in her voice as she sits against the headboard, bringing Steve between her legs. And then, firmly, like she always does, Robin presses the heels of her palms to his temples.
The pressure is glorious. Steve sighs, relief, finally, after so long without, and he collapses fully into Robin’s chest, blissful.
He loves her so much.
“I always feel like I’m hurting you,” she mumbles, and Steve can’t even move, relief coming in waves, flooding him.
They don’t say anything else. His relief coupled with the fact that he’s now in his own bed has sleep quickly dragging him under.
When he wakes again, it’s to hushed voices.
“—dinner?”
“Soup?”
“I think we’ve still got a can or two of chicken noodle.”
Steve cracks an eye open, and Eddie is there, his coveralls tied tight around his waist, his hair up and away from his face.
He looks when Steve opens his eyes, his pretty smile going all bright and warm.
“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is low and so soothing Steve wishes he could curl up into the timbre of it. “Birdie’s arms are getting tired. How ‘bout we switcharoo while she heats you up some food?”
Steve blinks heavily, his pain now a dull ache, his exhaustion now what weighs heavy. “Didn’t go grocery shopping,” he mutters, “no food.”
“We’ve got Campbell’s in the pantry,” Eddie counters. “How about I shower, make sure I don’t smell like grease and cigs, and then we can relive Robin from her post?”
Slowly, Steve nods, the thought of Eddie’s arms around him sending warm tingles up his spine. His boyfriend squeezes his leg, and heads to their bathroom.
The sounds of Eddie moving around are soothing, now, instead of painful, and the spray of the shower head only lasts a couple of minutes before it shuts off again.
When Eddie returns he smells like soap. Like the clean, unscented bar they keep in a disintegrating lump in the corner of the shower, and Steve’s head massage begins before he’s even fully in Eddie’s embrace.
“Oh thank god,” Robin mutters, “I thought I was going to piss myself.”
Eddie snorts as Robin hurries from the room, her footsteps short and quick, his thumbs already pressing hard into Steve’s temples.
“You took your meds, right?”
Steve swallows. “I did.”
Eddie kisses his cheek. His forehead.
“I didn’t go grocery shopping,” he whispers, ashamed, “I didn’t get Wayne his present or—”
Eddie kisses him again. On his lips, this time, and he must’ve brushed his teeth, too, because he tastes like mint. “Hey,” Eddie interrupts, “don’t do that.” His fingers continue. His knuckle finds the back of Steve’s neck and digs in hard.
Steve moans, his mouth falling open, his previous train of thought forgotten.
“You take care of me,” Eddie murmurs, “and I take care of you.” He pauses, then adds, “and we both take care of Birdie.”
Despite the dull ache still threatening the structural integrity of his skull, Steve smiles. “I love you,” he whispers.
Eddie kisses him between the eyebrows. “I love you, too.”
✨✨✨
Just a reminder that if you didn’t see my last post I’m not doing my tag list anymore, I’m sorry! 💗
And thank you for recipients patience with these, that big bang took May more out of me than I thought it would!
“Sweet Dreams explores the intricacies of everyday ableism and everyday ableist comments. Some of the comments recount dialogue said to the artist. Other phrases were submitted by other disabled and/or chronically ill individuals as documentation of comments that have been said to them. Through using recognizable objects associated with disability in correlation with playful colors, Sweet Dreams aims to reclaim objects commonly associated with pain and disrupt the narrative on what it means to be disabled.”
Black Friday is such a joke nowadays. “Don’t miss out on 30% off” don’t piss me the fuck off. People used to hit each other over the head for a microwave that’s how low the prices were. People literally died. We used to be a country
If you could travel through time, but only to see something for Research or for Fun, not to change anything, what would you pick? (Yes you may have a babel fish in your ear to translate for you. You are immune to disease and damage as long as you don't interfere).
Broadway Premiere of Rent
The 1981 original Broadway cast of Amadeus, with Tim Curry & Ian McKellen
Record Various Casts doing the Musical Cats
Various Original Cast Performances of Les Misérables
Burgess Meredith as Hamlet
Ian McKellen as Hamlet
Edward Gorey and Raul Julia's Dracula (1977-80)
Assorted Early 20th Century Classic Horror Movie Premier for Audience Reaction.
Broadway Premiere of Camelot
Premiere of Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand in Paris 1897
Premiere of Victor Hugo's Hernani in 1830.
Josephine Baker performance
Voting ended onDec 3, 2024
These Questions are the result of suggestions from the previous iteration.
This category may include suggestions made too late to fall into the correct grouping.
Please add new suggestions below if you have them for future consideration.
kind of want a helena pov fic where eddie moves to Texas and she's happy about it, so sure this is going to be what's best for everybody. the first time eddie comes over for dinner and they all sit around the table and smile at each other she's like yes, I was right, this is good, look, we're healing.
but then things....don't get better.
they look better! on the surface! they have friday night dinners and eddie takes chris out after school and they're talking about chris moving back in with him and eddie gives her a hug hello and goodbye every time he sees her.
but chris is moodier than before, acting up in all kinds of unexpected ways. and eddie is—absent behind the eyes somehow, like she remembers from after Ramón's father died, from after he got back from afghanistan, like she remembers from after shannon left. it's what grief looks like on him. and she tells herself time will fix it—more homecooked meals will fix it—more furniture for the new house will fix it.
one time she hears chris sobbing in his room, wild and ragged, and she runs to his bedroom door but hears somebody else's voice, and it makes her pause.
An adult man's voice, not Eddie's, tinny like he's on speakerphone, saying it'll be okay, Chris. oh buddy. i'm so sorry. I promise it'll be okay.
and then Chris, angry through his tears, saying no, it won't. i hate him, buck.
the man might say something else, but she doesn't hear it, because that's when she opens the door and sees Chris sitting on his bed, red-faced and tearstained, phone propped up on his desk, a vaguely familiar face on the screen. He immediately ends the call and wipes his face.
Hey, she says, shocked, and sits down on the bed next to him. Honey. She wants to ask him about what she heard, but she doesn't know if it'll be worse if he knows she was listening to him. That's the kind of thing Eddie always hated. What's the matter? She puts an arm around his shoulders, expecting him to melt into her like he always does, her sweet grandson, but he stays stiff, unmoving.
Nothing, he says.
Doesn't look like nothing.
He sniffs hard, wipes at his eyes. I mean, he says. It's nothing you can help with.
Is it about your dad?
He gives her an outraged look. No, he says, sounding suddenly like Adriana did, when she was an angry teenager. He lurches up to his feet, ripping away from her, reaching for his crutches so he can storm out. You don't get anything.
She talks to Eddie about it later—not about what Chris said, she doesn't want to hurt him—but that Chris was talking to Buck and Buck upset him. Is Eddie aware that his former coworkers are talking to Chris privately?
Eddie looks at her like he doesn't understand the question. It's Buck, he says, like that's an explanation. He's like family.
That smarts. Well, but he isn't, she says. It doesn't concern you at all that a conversation with Buck left Chris sobbing in his room?
Of course it concerns me, Eddie says. My son being upset always concerns me. I already talked to Buck about it. And to Chris.
And?
And, he says, and there's that absence behind his eyes again. I'm glad he has Buck to talk to.
And things go on like that for a few more months until it's time for a holiday + holiday break (don't worry about the timeline) but she's dropping Chris off at Eddie's house for a few days off from school, only Eddie's not the one who opens the door. It's Buck, always so much bigger in person than she remembers him, and Chris shrieks and leaps at him, like he's forgotten he's fourteen and doesn't do that anymore.
What are you doing here, Chris is yelling into Buck's shirt, beaming, and Buck has his hand on the back of Chris's head like—like she would, or Ramón would. Like Eddie would.
I came to see my best boys, obviously, Buck says gently, and Chris's shoulders crumple a little, and the look on Buck's face is—
She looks away, and her eyes land on Eddie, who is still watching Buck and Chris.
